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Short Chat
Title: Short Chat Players: Heather O'Leary and Dallas Foster Location: Maxwell Ranch Synopsis: Heather returned from the dead the night before, and she is still seeing what she missed in the last month LOG BEGINS Heather O'Leary steps out of the house, no longer wearing a Visitor Uniform. She looks around, and sees Dallas, the big guy from the previous night, "Morning... I don't think we've met, have we?" Dallas Foster is sitting on the stump of an old tree, the large black man hears someone's voice and stands, turning to face Heather. "No" He states firmly, and takes a few steps towards her. "Em Dallas Foster" Heather O'Leary nods, "Heather O'Leary." She offers her hand to the large man, and smiles, "You look like you were made to kill Lizards. Glad to have you around." Dallas Foster takes Heather's hand firmly, she may be a woman, but she is part of this fighting force and in his mind deserves a good shake of her hand. "I will treh to help, les hope dat the U.S. naveh's trainin can help meh in anyway" A smile widens Heather's face, "As long as you don't mind that I am a Marine, I think we'll get along fine." She looks the man over, "S.E.A.L. training, perhaps?" Dallas Foster nods a couple of times, his sheer size and the rough look about him sure doesn't pinpoint him as some sort of Navy technician. "Yeah, SEALs, but eh didn' get much of a chance ta prove myself in dem since the Visitors came back" He then looks over Heather. "Wut'd ya do in the marines?" Heather O'Leary chuckles, "When I went to Annapolis, I wanted to be a S.E.A.L... but they wouldn't let me. Became a Pilot. Flew Harrier's." She shrugs, "I did O.K. I guess, but daddy sure wasn't happy, when I was denied the S.E.A.L. training. He'd been grooming me for the S.E.A.L.'s since I was 5... He was in the S.E.A.L.'s in 'Nam." Her voice clearly would let most people know she is a Texan, with the twang, and the Country word choices Dallas Foster's voice would clearly let on that he has a speech impediment but... that’s trivial. "Eh joined da navy straight out of High School, I played football for my high school and enjoyed da rush of hurtin people" He shrugs then. "Meh father was a Military Policeman for the Air Force" Heather O'Leary nods, "We do tend to try what our parents did, when we are young, don't we?" She leans back against the porch of the house, and sighs, softly, "So, when did you join up? I know most of the people that stay here at the ranch... but you do not look familiar." Of course, a month is a long time to be gone. Dallas Foster grunts at her next question put to him. "Eh was officially a member yesterday" He shrugs then. "Figgered to do my part, even if eh die quick in the process" Heather O'Leary shakes her head, "You won't die quickly. I've lasted since the early days of the Second War, with this group... If I can do it, so can you." Dallas Foster points a finger at Heather. "Yah know how ta kill these feckers.. Eh was trained ta kill humans, im a human, eh kinda know how we think" Heather O'Leary shrugs, "They die just like we Humans do. Shoot them, snap their necks, cut off their heads, blow them out of the sky with a Missile..." Dallas Foster pulls a machete from a sheath strapped to one of his wide legs. "Eh think dat I could do that" He winks then. "Well em gonna go fer a run, talk to ya later" Heather O'Leary nods, "Have a good run." She turns towards the Barn, having other things she has to do. LOG ENDS Category:Log Category:RATED-PG